:: Track Listing

1. Yr Atal Genhedlaeth
2. Gwn Mi Wn
3. Epynt
4. Rhaglunieath Ysgafn
5. Pwdin Wy 1
6. Pwdin Wy 2
7. Y Gwybodusion
8. Caerffosiaeth
9. Ambell Waith
10. Ni Yw Y Byd
11. Chwarae’n Troi’n Chwerw

:: Record Review

Gruff Rhys

Yr Atal Genhedlaeth
(Placid Casual; 2005)

Rating: 76%
Combined Rating: 75%


The caveat
Gruff Rhys’s first solo venture is very useful. Useful, in a sense, because it arrives at a predictable time: it’s about-summer-ish, we haven’t had any new Furry output since the disastrously disappointing Phantom Phorce (2004). About-summer-ish, now-ish, is when we need a Wales taste, and this fucker’s candy. So far in 2005, only the Kaiser Chief’s Employment packs the same unapologetic hookiness and the same barbeque, sand-flecked build-up to brief euphony and a beach party. It’s fast, simple, and it’s all in Welsh, which is pretty throaty.

The anecdote
My girlfriend worked at a bar in Dublin. Gruff was playing a less-than-packed show down the street one night, a night in which she was standing around, not really doing much of anything. She found out too late, saw the jovial fans exit, and did a little dance of consternation. I’m writing this review with a grin to spite her.

The tie-up
Gruff’s made a twisted surf album, and if you weren’t expecting that, he did it to spite you.

The joy
“Yr Atal Genhedlaeth,” which ruffly puns into “The Stuttering Generation” (head over to www.placidcasual.com/gruff), sets the tone for the album, spackling a throng of Gruffs over a titular ten seconds. This zips into “Gwn Mi Wn” which builds a churning vocal harmony over crisp snare, over and over, sans guitar, or, really, anything else for that matter. The man’s got a way with melody, and here, more than any other grandiose SFA effort, melody is all that holds these tinny, disparate parts together. That’s perfectly OK: “Rhagluniaeth Ysgafn” laps into a rabid, canned beat after a triumphant cymbal crash as a raw riff clips underneath, and Gruff nets the bunch with an increasingly strained plea to St. Peter. Then, of course, falsetto layers join him before he moans into Heaven. But SHIT, no rest for the blessed, “Pwdin Wy 1” gallops out of the gates on another harmonized crest, the chugging ascent only tripped by distorted ignition noises.

It could be said that “Y Gwybodusion” is prime for sing-alongs, a suntanned riff clocked by a lightweight organ, spliced together by the most repetitively satisfying vocal on the album, but this could be said for practically any cut on Atal, including the 1984-lite industrial twee of “Caerffosieath.”

The best
“Ambell Waith” is the standout track here, unfortunately the closest to Super Furry Animalia on sheer bigness alone. Gruff plaintively walks through an acoustic blueberry patch, singing on par with his work with Mogwai, before jutting into an echo chamber and secret agent rolling into a crystalline trumpet line. Up and down, prog glory to ‘60s kitsch, never invasive or cluttered.

The sorrow
I say “unfortunately” because this isn’t an SFA album and it shouldn’t be. Of course it can be a bit difficult to extract Gruff’s gleeful voice from the bombast and mountainous pose of his band, but he makes it easy on all of us. No melody or riff reaches more development than roping through a few scant layers of airy vibes or rudimentary guitar, piddling through some electronic whispers before shutting off quickly and painlessly.

Gruff’s little bitty songs are filled with scattershot ease, sometimes even to the point of extreme cuteness (“Ring! Ring! Rings Around the World!”), but it can be distracting to hear the pieces of each piece coalesce so lucidly. It’s like Frankenstein’s Monster with the seams highlighted in Crayola marker: well built, neon even, but most definitely not natural. The album’s hyper awareness of its own mortar disrupts a bouncy pace that would otherwise fit Rhys’s suntanned pop to a tee.

The conclusion
Yr Atal Genhedlaeth is more than an interstitial moment in SFA lore, but it suffers for being overtly so.

The witty end and/or reassertion of assignment in “surf” genre
Could Gruff Rhys be the neo-Frankie Avalon we’ve so longed for? Dom Sinacola :: 6 April 2005 |